' Edward, time to come in. It's bed time.' The inventor was peering out of the attic window that looked down into the courtyard where his beloved creation was standing, transfixed by the topiary unicorn he had been working on.
Edward lowered his blades and gazed at the rampant sculpture in lush privet.
' You can finished it tomorrow.' The kindly old man told him. ' It's getting dark, you'll strain your eyes. Come inside and we can have some cookies and milk and I'll read you a story.'
Edward smiled sweetly at her inventor. He liked cookies, he liked stories too. The old man was so kind to him, Edward almost felt guilty about feeling so alone.
Snipping his blades, Edward totted inside and carefully climbed to the attic at the top of the house. The pale, dying light of day cast long shadows across the small cot where Edward slept. The inventor sat in an armchair beside the bed. He grinned lovingly as Edward entered.
' Good boy. Come and sit down and have something to eat. '
Stiffly, Edward crouched on the floor beside the old man and cautiously picked up one of the cookies on the plate on the floor between his blades. Trying very hard not to cut his face, he lifted the sweet snack to his lips and nibbled it. His creator watched him with pride and softly reached down to run a shaking, arthritic hand through Edward's wild, raven hair. Edward flinched and nicked his pale cheek on one of his blades. The cut didn't bleed but still old man looked at him with concern.
' Did you hurt yourself?'
Edward shook his head.
' Do you want me to feed you?'
Edward dropped the cookie and it crumbled on the plate. He wasn't that hungry. Not for cookies anyway. But there was something he had been craving for some time, something he was too shy and too naïve to explain. He didn't want to hurt his master but Edward longed for a sweetness and warmth that cookies and the old man's kind words couldn't give him.
' May I have a story, please?'
The inventor nodded and gestured to the bookshelf. ' Go and choose the one you want and I'll read it to you.'
Edward got to his feet again and shuffled across to the line of wooden shelves that stood beside the fireplace. His heart fluttered slightly as he carefully reached for his favourite, tipping it into his cold, metal palm. Staring lovingly down at it, he returned to the inventor and handed him the tattered volume. The old man chuckled.
' Beauty and the Beast?' he smiled as Edward climbed into his hard, narrow bed. ' But I've read you this one twice this week already.'
' I know.' Said Edward, blinking his bright, black eyes.
' Wouldn't you prefer Robin Hood or Peter Pan. You use to like hearing about Captain Hook.'
Edward shook his head. ' I like that one.' He whispered softly, pushing the cover open with his blade. The page fell open at a delicate illustration of a beautiful princess with long, golden hair and a gleaming white dress. She was gazing up lovingly at a humped back bear. Edward sighed. The girl in the book was so lovely, so tender and kind, he wondered if there were real girls like that. Girls with gleaming tresses and sweet hearts. Girls who could...
' Once upon a time, there was a beautiful maiden who lived at the edge of a dark forest.' Edward listened attentively to his master as the old man told him the story of how the lovely girl was forced to live in a shadowy castle with a brutish beast and how, over time, she saw that beneath the fangs and fur that the beast was lonely and unloved. She grew to love the beast and on magical day, she kissed him and he was transformed into a handsome prince.
' And they all lived happily every after.' Finished the inventor with a weary sigh.
Edward gazed at the twinkling lights of the town far below his home. ' I'm like the beast in the story, aren't I?' he whispered.
The inventor heart bled with woe. ' Why do you think that?' he asked, trying to hide his pity from his creator.
' Because I live in a castle, far away from people.' Edward turned his head to face the wall. ' And I'm lonely.'
The inventor lovingly brushed Edward's cold cheek. ' Oh Edward,' he sighed, ' you're not alone, I'm here.'
Edward bleated and softly snipped his blades. ' I know,' he said. ' Master, what are girls like?'
The inventor looked surprised. ' Girls?' he said, slightly confused. ' Well, there just like you and me really. Only a bit smaller and prettier.'
Edward turned his face back towards the old man. Intently, he stared at the storybook on his lap. ' In the story,' he asked, ' why did he change into a prince when she kissed him?'
The old man clawed back his thinning hair. He loved Edward and tried to teach him as much as he could but sometimes he thought he taught him too much. ' Because a witch cast a spell on him and it could only be broken when he found true love.' He explained.
Edward looked thoughtfully and twitched his blades. ' Master, you are very clever, you've made a lot of things. You've made me, you've made the cookie machine.' He paused and took a deep breath before saying slowly. ' Could you make a girl? A girl for me to love, a girl like in the story, who'd love me and wouldn't be afraid.'
The inventor sighed sadly. Edward had such a kind, innocent heart, it wounded him to know he felt this way. How could he give him what he longed for? ' Oh dear Edward,' he sighed. ' Yes, given time, I could build a girl, like I built you. But, Edward, I couldn't make her love you, no-one can do that.'
Edward gazed sadly at his cold, brutal hands. He wanted to cry but his eyes were glass and didn't make tears. ' Because I'm ugly.' He whispered.
The inventor stroke Edward's dark hair. ' No, Edward.' He enthused. ' you're not ugly. But I can't build love. Love is like,' he thought for a minute, ' love is like your topiary. It must grow on its own and if we take care of it, if we're kind and good and give love, love will come back to us.'
The pale creature gazed up at him with shining eyes but said nothing. The inventor knew that he could do little to ease the agony and longing in Edward's heart. He brushed a stray black lock from Edward's eyes. ' You have a good heart, Edward.' He told him. ' One day, people will see it. One day. Go to sleep now.'
Slowly, the old man got to his feet and shuffled out of the attic, leaving Edward alone with his thoughts. Edward gazed down through the window at the little pin-pricks of light from the houses so far away. He didn't know why he felt like this, he never use to. He wondered if in one of those houses there was a girl, someone gentle and tender. Someone who's smile would touch his soul and lift the shadows from his heart. Slowly, the dark cloud of sleep embraced him and his thoughts transformed into dreams...
Edward was standing in the garden, sculpting a cupid from the privet. It was summer and the sun was warm and bright. Birds twittered in the eaves of the castle and all around him flowers bloomed. Suddenly he heard a voice.
' Edward.'
Edward stopped pruning and turned to see who was calling him. Then he saw her. She was standing on the steps to the castle as perfect and delicate as the ice sculptures he made in winter. Her hair was long and shone golden in the sunlight, falling across her shoulders like a gleaming waterfall. Her eyes were as blue as forget-me-nots and shining with love. She was wearing a gown of purest white silk that seemed to glow with a gentle light. She was smiling, a smile that seemed only to be for Edward.
Edward couldn't move. Her beauty froze him to the spot. All her could do was stare at her and wonder if she was an angel. Then she slowly began walking towards him, her deep, blue eyes gazing into his without the slightest fear. He wanted to talk to her, to say how beautiful she was, to ask her name, but his shyness crippled him.
She walked right up to him, so close that Edward could see every golden hair on her hair. He could smell her and she smelt like fresh cookies, sweet and warm and ready to be eaten.
She was gazing up at him, right into his eyes. Her lips were the same pink as the roses that grew nearby. She leant closer, her loving eyes half closed. Edward felt a longing, a longing he was afraid to fulfil. He wanted to touch her but when he touched things they broke, he didn't want to break her.
Tenderly, her lips encountered his and Edward found they were warmer than sunlight, sweeter than cookies. The kiss was so gentle. Edward had never felt anything like it. Normally, something this fragile would brake the moment he came into contact with it. But the kiss didn't brake. It warmed him, filled him. Her beauty filled his head and drifted through him like warm honey. So warm, so pure, so good. It reached down his neck until all the hairs on the back of his neck tingled. Into his shoulders and down his arms. Edward was afraid, it was heading for his hands, his cruel, ugly, wicked hands. Her magic would be repelled by them surely. Oh but, she was so lovely, so sweeter than cookies and the kiss was so wonderful. Edward forgot his pain, forgot his hands. He wanted to love her, be so gentle with her.
Feeling a little braver, he began kissing her back. His heart felt like it was going to burst. Without thinking he reached up and caress her cheek. Shyly, she drew back from his kiss and smiling blissful rested her glowing cheek in the warm palm of his hand. His perfect, warm, tender hand.
Edward lowered his blades and gazed at the rampant sculpture in lush privet.
' You can finished it tomorrow.' The kindly old man told him. ' It's getting dark, you'll strain your eyes. Come inside and we can have some cookies and milk and I'll read you a story.'
Edward smiled sweetly at her inventor. He liked cookies, he liked stories too. The old man was so kind to him, Edward almost felt guilty about feeling so alone.
Snipping his blades, Edward totted inside and carefully climbed to the attic at the top of the house. The pale, dying light of day cast long shadows across the small cot where Edward slept. The inventor sat in an armchair beside the bed. He grinned lovingly as Edward entered.
' Good boy. Come and sit down and have something to eat. '
Stiffly, Edward crouched on the floor beside the old man and cautiously picked up one of the cookies on the plate on the floor between his blades. Trying very hard not to cut his face, he lifted the sweet snack to his lips and nibbled it. His creator watched him with pride and softly reached down to run a shaking, arthritic hand through Edward's wild, raven hair. Edward flinched and nicked his pale cheek on one of his blades. The cut didn't bleed but still old man looked at him with concern.
' Did you hurt yourself?'
Edward shook his head.
' Do you want me to feed you?'
Edward dropped the cookie and it crumbled on the plate. He wasn't that hungry. Not for cookies anyway. But there was something he had been craving for some time, something he was too shy and too naïve to explain. He didn't want to hurt his master but Edward longed for a sweetness and warmth that cookies and the old man's kind words couldn't give him.
' May I have a story, please?'
The inventor nodded and gestured to the bookshelf. ' Go and choose the one you want and I'll read it to you.'
Edward got to his feet again and shuffled across to the line of wooden shelves that stood beside the fireplace. His heart fluttered slightly as he carefully reached for his favourite, tipping it into his cold, metal palm. Staring lovingly down at it, he returned to the inventor and handed him the tattered volume. The old man chuckled.
' Beauty and the Beast?' he smiled as Edward climbed into his hard, narrow bed. ' But I've read you this one twice this week already.'
' I know.' Said Edward, blinking his bright, black eyes.
' Wouldn't you prefer Robin Hood or Peter Pan. You use to like hearing about Captain Hook.'
Edward shook his head. ' I like that one.' He whispered softly, pushing the cover open with his blade. The page fell open at a delicate illustration of a beautiful princess with long, golden hair and a gleaming white dress. She was gazing up lovingly at a humped back bear. Edward sighed. The girl in the book was so lovely, so tender and kind, he wondered if there were real girls like that. Girls with gleaming tresses and sweet hearts. Girls who could...
' Once upon a time, there was a beautiful maiden who lived at the edge of a dark forest.' Edward listened attentively to his master as the old man told him the story of how the lovely girl was forced to live in a shadowy castle with a brutish beast and how, over time, she saw that beneath the fangs and fur that the beast was lonely and unloved. She grew to love the beast and on magical day, she kissed him and he was transformed into a handsome prince.
' And they all lived happily every after.' Finished the inventor with a weary sigh.
Edward gazed at the twinkling lights of the town far below his home. ' I'm like the beast in the story, aren't I?' he whispered.
The inventor heart bled with woe. ' Why do you think that?' he asked, trying to hide his pity from his creator.
' Because I live in a castle, far away from people.' Edward turned his head to face the wall. ' And I'm lonely.'
The inventor lovingly brushed Edward's cold cheek. ' Oh Edward,' he sighed, ' you're not alone, I'm here.'
Edward bleated and softly snipped his blades. ' I know,' he said. ' Master, what are girls like?'
The inventor looked surprised. ' Girls?' he said, slightly confused. ' Well, there just like you and me really. Only a bit smaller and prettier.'
Edward turned his face back towards the old man. Intently, he stared at the storybook on his lap. ' In the story,' he asked, ' why did he change into a prince when she kissed him?'
The old man clawed back his thinning hair. He loved Edward and tried to teach him as much as he could but sometimes he thought he taught him too much. ' Because a witch cast a spell on him and it could only be broken when he found true love.' He explained.
Edward looked thoughtfully and twitched his blades. ' Master, you are very clever, you've made a lot of things. You've made me, you've made the cookie machine.' He paused and took a deep breath before saying slowly. ' Could you make a girl? A girl for me to love, a girl like in the story, who'd love me and wouldn't be afraid.'
The inventor sighed sadly. Edward had such a kind, innocent heart, it wounded him to know he felt this way. How could he give him what he longed for? ' Oh dear Edward,' he sighed. ' Yes, given time, I could build a girl, like I built you. But, Edward, I couldn't make her love you, no-one can do that.'
Edward gazed sadly at his cold, brutal hands. He wanted to cry but his eyes were glass and didn't make tears. ' Because I'm ugly.' He whispered.
The inventor stroke Edward's dark hair. ' No, Edward.' He enthused. ' you're not ugly. But I can't build love. Love is like,' he thought for a minute, ' love is like your topiary. It must grow on its own and if we take care of it, if we're kind and good and give love, love will come back to us.'
The pale creature gazed up at him with shining eyes but said nothing. The inventor knew that he could do little to ease the agony and longing in Edward's heart. He brushed a stray black lock from Edward's eyes. ' You have a good heart, Edward.' He told him. ' One day, people will see it. One day. Go to sleep now.'
Slowly, the old man got to his feet and shuffled out of the attic, leaving Edward alone with his thoughts. Edward gazed down through the window at the little pin-pricks of light from the houses so far away. He didn't know why he felt like this, he never use to. He wondered if in one of those houses there was a girl, someone gentle and tender. Someone who's smile would touch his soul and lift the shadows from his heart. Slowly, the dark cloud of sleep embraced him and his thoughts transformed into dreams...
Edward was standing in the garden, sculpting a cupid from the privet. It was summer and the sun was warm and bright. Birds twittered in the eaves of the castle and all around him flowers bloomed. Suddenly he heard a voice.
' Edward.'
Edward stopped pruning and turned to see who was calling him. Then he saw her. She was standing on the steps to the castle as perfect and delicate as the ice sculptures he made in winter. Her hair was long and shone golden in the sunlight, falling across her shoulders like a gleaming waterfall. Her eyes were as blue as forget-me-nots and shining with love. She was wearing a gown of purest white silk that seemed to glow with a gentle light. She was smiling, a smile that seemed only to be for Edward.
Edward couldn't move. Her beauty froze him to the spot. All her could do was stare at her and wonder if she was an angel. Then she slowly began walking towards him, her deep, blue eyes gazing into his without the slightest fear. He wanted to talk to her, to say how beautiful she was, to ask her name, but his shyness crippled him.
She walked right up to him, so close that Edward could see every golden hair on her hair. He could smell her and she smelt like fresh cookies, sweet and warm and ready to be eaten.
She was gazing up at him, right into his eyes. Her lips were the same pink as the roses that grew nearby. She leant closer, her loving eyes half closed. Edward felt a longing, a longing he was afraid to fulfil. He wanted to touch her but when he touched things they broke, he didn't want to break her.
Tenderly, her lips encountered his and Edward found they were warmer than sunlight, sweeter than cookies. The kiss was so gentle. Edward had never felt anything like it. Normally, something this fragile would brake the moment he came into contact with it. But the kiss didn't brake. It warmed him, filled him. Her beauty filled his head and drifted through him like warm honey. So warm, so pure, so good. It reached down his neck until all the hairs on the back of his neck tingled. Into his shoulders and down his arms. Edward was afraid, it was heading for his hands, his cruel, ugly, wicked hands. Her magic would be repelled by them surely. Oh but, she was so lovely, so sweeter than cookies and the kiss was so wonderful. Edward forgot his pain, forgot his hands. He wanted to love her, be so gentle with her.
Feeling a little braver, he began kissing her back. His heart felt like it was going to burst. Without thinking he reached up and caress her cheek. Shyly, she drew back from his kiss and smiling blissful rested her glowing cheek in the warm palm of his hand. His perfect, warm, tender hand.